by Jane Grant
We said in unison, ‘St. Bernard’s.’
‘Oh, yes, my brother’s mother-in-law had her gall bladder out there,’ he said. ‘Jolly good place, I believe.’
Phyllis was now quite shamelessly walking round the table, knocking off all the delicacies she fancied. She had somehow acquired a junior officer as well. A slightly drunk man began telling me what a wonderful profession I was in. Then an elderly business man came up and asked us if we would like to see round the ship. Mary and I accompanied him along narrow passages and into various cabins. We reached the top-deck and he threw open a door.
‘This is one of the visitors’ cabins,’ he said.
We walked in. An officer and a woman were locked in a close embrace. There was a confused retreat, Mary in her haste tripping over the ridge at the bottoms of the doorway, and only being saved from falling flat by falling into the arms of the elderly businessman.
He coughed. ‘I’m sure you’d both like another drink,’ he said.
We returned to the buffet room. Some more people had arrived. A well-dressed middle-aged woman came up. ‘There you are, dear,’ she said. ‘We’ve been looking for you.’
‘I was just showing these nurses round the ship,’ he said. ‘They’ve come to see the Queen.’
‘Oh ‒ how nice!’ she exclaimed, smiling at us.
Then a voice said, ‘Here’s your drink, Mother. What’ll you have, Dad?’ And from behind a group of people emerged Keith!
He saw Mary, and his surprise deprived him of his usual excellent manners. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘Oh, hullo, Keith,’ said Mary.
‘And Jane!’ said Keith, looking at me.
We stood in front of each other, unable to think of a single word to say. Keith’s father said fatuously, ‘Oh, you know each other?’
We all began to explain at once, then there was another awkward silence. Keith’s mother with admirable tact looked at her watch.
‘It’s nearly three. Hadn’t we better go on deck?’
We hung waiting over the deck rail for some minutes before, down the companionway of the Britannia, we saw the figures of the Royal Family leaving the yacht and entering the launch. The Royal Standard fluttered gracefully down, ships’ sirens screamed, and everyone started cheering wildly. The tiny figures in the launch waved enthusiastically, and it seemed that in a moment they had passed us and disappeared under the bridge.
‘Didn’t see much of them, did we?’ said Keith’s father.
‘But it was worth it,’ said Phyllis, and we all agreed.
We stood about for a little, and Keith asked us if we wouldn’t like some tea.
‘Oh no, thanks,’ said Phyllis. ‘I think we ought to be going back.’
I looked hard at her, but it had no effect.
‘We’ve been up all day, you see,’ she went on.
Keith looked mildly surprised, ‘Well ‒ er ‒ aren’t you usually?’
‘Not when we’re up all night,’ said Phyllis.
Everyone began saying good-bye. We politely thanked the Captain and Keith’s father for letting us come aboard to their party, and they politely said how glad they were we could come.
Keith came to the gang plank with us. The others trooped down, and I was about to say good-bye and follow them when he said quickly: ‘I’m in town all this week. Can I meet you some time?’
‘My nights off start tomorrow,’ I said.
‘Oh, good. Can you meet me at Simpsons for lunch?’
I gulped. ‘Yes ‒ er ‒ I’d love to.’
‘Good. What time?’
‘Shall we say one o’clock?’ I thought to myself that this would give me three hours’ sleep, and that if I were lucky I might catch a little in the ward that night, if Daisy were off.
Chapter Twenty-two
This hope, however, in the usual manner of such hopes in hospital, was doomed to disappointment.
Between the Male Eye Ward, Lazarus, and the Female Eye Ward, Martha, was a small theatre where all the eye and dental operations were performed. It was about eleven o’clock that night when Daisy came into Martha Ward.
‘Get the Head Nurse from Lazarus, gal,’ she said to me abruptly.
I hurried through the adjoining door to the Male Eye Ward, and returned with the Head Nurse. We stood to attention in front of Daisy, trying not to look guilty, though we could not remember any recent crimes.
Daisy began portentously. ‘Now! We’ve just had a take-in in Casualty whose wife was a Bernard’s Sister. While his teeth were bein’ drilled, the needle broke off and it’s gone into his jaw. I want you two to go right away and get theatres ready. I’ll send you down some extras.’
We both looked aghast. I said apologetically, ‘I’ve never worked in theatres before, Sister.’
Julie, the other head nurse, duplicated this statement. Daisy looked at us hard.
‘Well, now’s y’r chance to learn, gals!’ she said.
When she had gone, we looked at each other with appalled faces, then simultaneously made a rush to Sister’s office, to see if there were any textbooks on the subject. After a lot of frantic and practically fruitless research, we hurried into the theatre and began to put out all the dental instruments we could lay our hands on.
About an hour later the procession arrived. The patient on his trolley had had morphia and was semi-conscious; he was attended by Daisy, the Registrar, Ginger (who was the Out-Patients’ officer), and three students. Totally disregarding the gowns and masks we had put out for them, doctors and students started looking at and discussing the X-ray photograph of the man’s jaw.
It was obviously going to be a tricky job. ‘Why don’t you use the magnet, boy?’ said Daisy to the Registrar.
‘Yes, we could do,’ said the Registrar, as if the idea had already occurred to him (which it hadn’t). ‘D’you think it’d be strong enough?’
‘Can but try,’ said Ginger.
They got out the magnet, which is usually used for removing metal from an eye, and fitted it together. There was a special plug for it, as it required a low- powered circuit.
Ginger inserted the magnet in the patient’s mouth and switched on. ‘Hope he hasn’t got any gold fillings,’ he remarked genially.
Nothing happened. ‘Damn’ thing isn’t strong enough,’ said Ginger. ‘Can’t we put it on a higher voltage?’
‘Here’s one,’ said the Registrar. He indicated the one to which the diathermy machine was attached. This machine is used to seal off blood vessels.
‘Well, we won’t need the diathermy,’ said Ginger.
‘I hope not, Mr. Barnes,’ said Daisy.
The Registrar looked at her sourly. ‘I hardly think so, Sister.’
One of the students tried to fit the magnet plug into the connection, but the plug was too small.
‘We’ll have the one off the diathermy machine,’ said Ginger, and the student produced a penknife and changed the wires.
Ginger inserted the plug and switched on the magnet. The needle appeared and was removed with forceps. Ginger, looking triumphant, held up the whirring magnet and remarked, ‘Good thing, these magnets.’
He was just about to switch it off when there was a blue flash, a crack, and the lights all went out.
‘What in hell are you playing at, Ginger?’ said the Registrar in an aggrieved tone.
Ginger had dropped the magnet. ‘Just got a flipping shock,’ he said.
‘Boy,’ said Daisy in a general way addressing the students, ‘turn on the emergency lights.’
There was a scuffle, a yelp, and a clatter, and the emergency lights went on.
The patient was wheeled back to Lazarus, while Daisy and I and the three students investigated the extent of the damage. The magnet was broken, of that there was no question, and the circuit fused.
‘Oh well, gal,’ said Daisy, amazingly placid, ‘accidents do happen. I’ll see Sister about it in the morning.’
I went back to my ward; tha
t morning when we started work the lights down one side of the ward were found to be fused. Daisy rang up the electricians and told them to come over as soon as possible.
The day staff came on; Julie and I, our hearts in our mouths, went to Sister’s office to give her Report. As we were about to embark on a long and involved explanation, three burly electricians marched into the ward with handfuls of tools.
‘Where are these busted fuses?’ asked one of them.
Sister, taken aback, inquired haughtily: ‘Which fuses were you thinking of?’
Julie felt bound to reply. ‘Down in theatres, Sister,’ she said.
‘And half the ward lights are gone too,’ said the electrician.
‘Well ‒ what happened, Nurse?’ asked Sister coldly.
A circle of accusing eyes were directed on us. I said weakly: ‘Mr. Barnes changed over the circuit of the magnet, Sister.’
‘He did what?’
‘Well, he couldn’t get the needle out.’
‘He couldn’t what?’
‘Well, it sort of wasn’t strong enough,’ said Julie.
There was a pause. ‘Will you show me theatre?’ said Sister in a quiet and ominous tone.
We went down to theatre. We had put the magnet as tidily as possible on the trolley. The frown on Sister’s forehead gradually deepened as she looked at it. ‘The magnet’s broken too!’
‘Yes, Sister,’ we agreed uncomfortably.
She looked at the sawn-off stump of the lead of the diathermy machine. ‘What’s happened here, Nurse?’
‘Well ‒ he ‒ er ‒ used that plug, Sister.’
Sister progressed slowly round the theatre. She walked up to one of the cupboards. There, inside, glued together in an untidy bundle, were all the beautiful, delicate eye instruments. She tried to separate them, but they immediately flew together again.
Her voice quivered. ‘They’re magnetized!’ she said despairingly.
At this dramatic moment Daisy walked in, and we fled. We gave our Report to the Staff Nurse and went off duty. I went to bed early, as I wanted to get some sleep before I met Keith. Hardly had my head touched the pillow when I was roused by one of the day nurses on Lazarus.
‘Have you got the keys?’ she said.
‘No,’ I said crossly. ‘I gave them to Staff Nurse.’
‘I mean the keys of the Insurance Company.’
‘The Insurance Company?’ I looked at her blankly. ‘What on earth do you mean?’
‘I don’t know any more about it,’ she said. ‘Will you go and see Daisy.’
‘What ‒ now?’
‘Yes. As quickly as possible, she said.’
‘Have I got to get back into uniform?’
‘I suppose so.’
I got out of bed groaning. My one pair of black duty stockings were hanging out to dry; I put them on, they were soaking wet. Shivering, I dressed, and tottered down to the Matron’s office. Julie was there, and we went in to face Daisy together.
‘Where are the keys, gal?’ asked Daisy.
We both looked blank.
‘This patient,’ said Daisy slowly and coldly, ‘is the Manager of the Three Counties Assurance Company. It is now ten-thirty and his employees are all waitin’ to get in to their work. He had the door keys and safe keys on one bunch, and no one knows anythin’ about them. Don’t you remember seein’ them at all?’
We both stated very emphatically that we had neither seen nor heard anything of any keys.
‘We’ll have to call the students,’ said Daisy to the Staff Nurse sitting at her side.
We all trooped down to Casualty. Ginger was seeing a patient, so Daisy went through the students first. All three denied hotly that they had ever seen the keys. We waited about for ten minutes while Ginger finished with his patient, then he appeared, smiling cheerfully. ‘Hullo ‒ you lot again!’ he exclaimed.
‘Mr. Barnes,’ said Daisy solemnly, ‘do you know anythin’ about some keys belongin’ to the patient that you so excellently removed that needle from last night?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Ginger airily, ‘he had a dirty great bunch in his pocket, hadn’t he? Believe he gave them to me.’
We gave one great sigh of relief.
‘Blowed if I can remember where I put them,’ went on Ginger, and we all grew tense. ‘Probably,’ he added lightly, ‘probably in my other suit. D’you want them now, Sister?’ he said, looking at the clock.
‘Yes, Mr. Barnes,’ said Sister, ‘I do.’
‘Well ‒ can you wait a minute. I’ll just run up to my room. Why don’t you all sit down,’ he added hospitably.
‘Nurse,’ said Daisy to Julie, ‘will you bring them over to me.’ She turned to Ginger. ‘Mr. Barnes, it may interest you to know that you did three hundred and fifty pounds worth of damage last night!’
When I got back to my room I didn’t feel like going to sleep, so I woke up Mary and told her Ginger’s latest exploit. If anything, this only raised him in her estimation.
‘Well,’ she said defensively. ‘Anyway, nobody else thought of changing the power plug.’
‘And where did that brilliant inspiration get him?’ I said. ‘I wonder,’ I added casually, ‘if the hospital will sue him.’
‘They can’t,’ said Mary firmly. After a moment she added doubtfully, ‘Can they?’
I took some benzedrine tablets, dressed and went out to lunch. Keith had tickets for a show at the Palladium, and after settling myself comfortably in my seat, I went peacefully to sleep. I woke up periodically and apologized to him, and his only comment was, ‘I’m sorry the seat’s not very comfortable.’
After the show we went out to tea and I began to wake up a bit. We walked down to the embankment, across the bridge, and visited the deer in Battersea Park. Then we came back to the West End and had dinner, after which he took me back to St. Bernard’s.
We spent most of the next day together. The day after he went back to the north, but we arranged to write.
Chapter Twenty-three
When I went on duty that night I found we had a new patient, a woman of fifty, who had been deaf and dumb all her life. Now her sight was going, and she was practically blind from a cataract. The following day she had her operation, and when I came on duty the next evening, she had both her eyes covered.
It was difficult to imagine what she must feel like with none of the three senses one considers so vital. I found she could talk in a slurred, unintelligible way. Did she, I wondered, want a hot drink? I put her glass into her hand and dipped her finger in the water. She immediately said, ‘Yes, yes.’ I got her a cup of tea, and put her finger in the sugar. She said ‘No.’ Putting her hand round the cup so she could feel how hot it was, I started to feed her slowly with it.
For two days we had to continue this mime, sometimes using great ingenuity, and she co-operated with quickness and intelligence. On the third day I was thankful to see her good eye was uncovered.
The vital thing with the cataract operation is to keep the head still. One evening when I arrived, our latest cataract was sitting up in bed chewing gum! The Staff Nurse told me they had unsuccessfully tried to wrest it from her, but that she insisted that she had always chewed gum and always would.
When the first dressing was done we all waited with apprehension. There was no apparent damage. We had not revealed to the surgeon his patient’s peculiar habit.
Later that week he came round again. He stopped for some time with this patient, and examined her eyes thoroughly. Sister stood by, anxiously watching. At last he stood up straight, and I replaced the bandage.
‘Yes, Sister,’ he said as he walked away, ‘that’s one of the most successful cataracts I’ve ever done!’
Phyllis, Mary and I always met for breakfast, and usually recounted tales of the night’s happenings in the ward. One morning Mary was rather subdued; we asked her what the matter was.
‘My new Junior,’ she said. ‘She’s enough to drive anyone up the wall!’
That m
orning Mary had gone to find her to tell her to do the light early morning breakfasts for the operation cases. She was talking to the Junior from the next ward. Mary’s Junior had asked, ‘What’s your Head Nurse like?’
‘All right,’ said the other Junior. ‘A bit fussy. What’s yours?’
Mary must be forgiven for stopping to listen to the reply, and like other listeners, she heard no good of herself.
‘Oh,’ said the Junior, ‘she’s a real old bag. Goes out with Ginger Barnes, so that should give you some idea!’
To cheer us up Phyllis told us her adventure. She was working on the maternity ward, and the night had been particularly hectic. By eleven o’clock they had had three deliveries. The fourth delivery started, and was proving to be difficult, so the Registrar had been called.
He went into one of the Labour Rooms to change into the usual operating costume, consisting of white linen trousers, white vest, white rubber boots and apron, and a white cap and mask. Just as he finished, the fifth delivery was wheeled into the room. Picking up his clothes, he threw them out of the first door he opened, and hurried into the Labour Room where the fourth case was, to try to prevent postpartum haemorrhage.
A little later Daisy came into the ward to do a round. Phyllis rushed up to meet her. Daisy surveyed the mess silently; no one had yet had a chance to clear the ward up. She marched through the ward to the hallway outside, and there, sprawled on the floor was a pair of trousers, shirt and coat.
Daisy picked the trousers up distastefully by the braces.
‘What are these doin’ here, gal?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know, Sister.’
Daisy gave one of her surprising, hoarse laughs.
‘Well, I should look around for the first man that hasn’t got trousers on, gal,’ she said. ‘And clap ’em on him!’
Chapter Twenty-four
Among Daisy’s disconcerting ways was the habit of concentrating suddenly on one aspect of a nurse’s duties, and giving us a kind of extra examination question as she went on her rounds. One night she would walk round the block asking all the Head Nurses where their fire extinguishers were? A week later an inquisition would be held on what were blood electrolytes? On one unfortunate evening, while doing the round in the surgical wards, she came across a patient who had a tracheotomy. The spills beside the bed, which are made of linen and used to clear the tubes, were not made to her liking, and that night she went round each ward asking each Head Nurse to make a specimen tracheotomy spill.